We met this morning at 9, unaware of what was in store for us.
Halfway through our seven-hour drive up to Niagara Falls, NY (that's right), we got a phone call from Jen at the office, asking us if we would be free to do a show in the first week of June. It's technically outside of our contract dates, so we have to okay any extra performances. But it seemed odd that they would ask. Turns out, the group that booked us in New York had arranged for people to attend the show on a different day, and in an attempt to accommodate them, the office was trying to reschedule other bookings.
Hence, a show day in June.
And now our NY performance has been bumped back a day, giving us tomorrow--the whole day--to ourselves, actors without a show for twenty-four hours in Niagara Falls. We'll be back Thursday!
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Monday, May 11, 2009
Reds
Began Friday with a morning show at a Little Red Schoolhouse. On the call sheet, there was a note saying that the last time ArtReach came to the school, "the cafeteria ceiling was too low for our flats," and that we would have to make do once we got into the space.
Once inside the school, I was shown the cafeteria room by the secretary. I took one look at the ceiling and, sure enough, it was too low to accommodate our set.
I asked if there was another room we could use, and we walked to the end of the building, into one of the teachers' classrooms. We would have to rearrange the room, she said: moving shelves and magazine racks, a pile of dolls in the corner, countless chairs and the tables they surround, a whole line of art projects clipped to a glittering strand spanning the length of the room. It would add, in a most conservative estimate, fifteen minutes to the load-in and the load-out. But the ceiling slanted upwards in a kind of hypotenuse slope to one side of the room, and it was at least high enough for the backdrop.
So we did it. We pulled the van up to a handicapped parking space and opened the fire-escape door. In came the poles and roll for the main backdrop, but the spinning flats would have to stay in the van. Props followed, and then we realized that the bench we keep backstage to rest on between scenes and the entire sound system would not fit into the two feet of space from the back of the drop to the wall. So we asked if the teacher had a small CD-player we could use to play music, and she did; a bit hastily, we learned how to pause an skip the tracks on the football-sized player, whose volume knob we cranked all the way up.
We also had to pull the shades on the windows backstage. I have to change from a bunny into a turtle during the show, and no parents dropping off children need to see a torso of green spandex in a classroom window. Really, no one needs that.
Children came in with teachers, and they crammed into the tiny room with our abbreviated set. The shelves and stacked chairs pushed them forward, shrinking their space even more.
But we did it, and they loved the show. We found out later that as soon as we left, they booked ArtReach for next year.
This is a perfect example of how our group works with the school to accomplish the most successful show possible, given any circumstance. Here we were, without two-thirds of our set, in a space one-half the size we normally use, dancing in our first number two feet away from the front row of children--and yet we pulled it off.
Thank you, Little Red Schoolhouse. We'll see you next year!
--
After, we drove to Russellville, OH, to perform Town Mouse, Country Mouse for the second time that day.
We found out at the school that they were planning to dismiss forty-five minutes after we started the show. Since it normally runs about fifty minutes, we foresaw the obvious problem.
So we bumped the start time up twenty minutes. It would give them enough leeway to get the children out of the gym and onto the buses. Good thing we arrived half an hour earlier than we needed to be there--kudos to Robbie--or else we would have had either to cut the show short (bad) or figure out how to weed out ten minutes of material (also bad).
But again, by working with the administrators, we pulled it off, to heralds and acclaim.
--
That night, we were invited to watch the Reds play the St. Louis Cardinals. The Children's Theatre office staff and their families were also there, and it was a great time: unlimited concessions, including lobster-and-rice dishes alongside the expected hot dogs and burgers; an exciting square-off between two great mid-America teams; and post-game fireworks.
The Reds won. We all went home happy.
Once inside the school, I was shown the cafeteria room by the secretary. I took one look at the ceiling and, sure enough, it was too low to accommodate our set.
I asked if there was another room we could use, and we walked to the end of the building, into one of the teachers' classrooms. We would have to rearrange the room, she said: moving shelves and magazine racks, a pile of dolls in the corner, countless chairs and the tables they surround, a whole line of art projects clipped to a glittering strand spanning the length of the room. It would add, in a most conservative estimate, fifteen minutes to the load-in and the load-out. But the ceiling slanted upwards in a kind of hypotenuse slope to one side of the room, and it was at least high enough for the backdrop.
So we did it. We pulled the van up to a handicapped parking space and opened the fire-escape door. In came the poles and roll for the main backdrop, but the spinning flats would have to stay in the van. Props followed, and then we realized that the bench we keep backstage to rest on between scenes and the entire sound system would not fit into the two feet of space from the back of the drop to the wall. So we asked if the teacher had a small CD-player we could use to play music, and she did; a bit hastily, we learned how to pause an skip the tracks on the football-sized player, whose volume knob we cranked all the way up.
We also had to pull the shades on the windows backstage. I have to change from a bunny into a turtle during the show, and no parents dropping off children need to see a torso of green spandex in a classroom window. Really, no one needs that.
Children came in with teachers, and they crammed into the tiny room with our abbreviated set. The shelves and stacked chairs pushed them forward, shrinking their space even more.
But we did it, and they loved the show. We found out later that as soon as we left, they booked ArtReach for next year.
This is a perfect example of how our group works with the school to accomplish the most successful show possible, given any circumstance. Here we were, without two-thirds of our set, in a space one-half the size we normally use, dancing in our first number two feet away from the front row of children--and yet we pulled it off.
Thank you, Little Red Schoolhouse. We'll see you next year!
--
After, we drove to Russellville, OH, to perform Town Mouse, Country Mouse for the second time that day.
We found out at the school that they were planning to dismiss forty-five minutes after we started the show. Since it normally runs about fifty minutes, we foresaw the obvious problem.
So we bumped the start time up twenty minutes. It would give them enough leeway to get the children out of the gym and onto the buses. Good thing we arrived half an hour earlier than we needed to be there--kudos to Robbie--or else we would have had either to cut the show short (bad) or figure out how to weed out ten minutes of material (also bad).
But again, by working with the administrators, we pulled it off, to heralds and acclaim.
--
That night, we were invited to watch the Reds play the St. Louis Cardinals. The Children's Theatre office staff and their families were also there, and it was a great time: unlimited concessions, including lobster-and-rice dishes alongside the expected hot dogs and burgers; an exciting square-off between two great mid-America teams; and post-game fireworks.
The Reds won. We all went home happy.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Taft
Today was a day of firsts and lasts.
It was the last day for Teresa and I to perform at the Taft Museum of Art. It was the first time for Robbie and Caitlin. We (Teresa and I) have met with Anne a total of five times now, performing each show twice, with the exception of Tom Sawyer.
They always serve us tea when we go there. It comes out on a wide, brown, oval-shaped tray, with an assortment of choices: Earl and Lady Grey, Plantation Mint, Lemon, etc. I think it might be the only venue we play that actually serves us a variety of tea.
The University of Miami-Middletown also serves us tea, now that I think about it.
In any case, we will miss the Taft's staff, Anne, the tea, the chill atmosphere mixed with the cozy luxury of a museum, and everything else--all of it.
--
That's not to say that it's all downhill from here. Far from it, actually. This week, we begin by heading back up to Springfield for the last show in association with the Springfield Arts Council. We have done every show for them, too.
It's always nice to go back to familiar schools, to meet with familiar faces. The perks are varied. Everything from knowing which driveway to enter and which door to find, to remembering where wall outlets are, to anticipating water bottles (or Styrofoam cups of tea), all combine to make our jobs a little easier.
It is nostalgia mixed with convenience, really: The past informs the present.
--
According to Caitlin, we have twenty-nine performances remaining. The countdown is surely sad for some of us, exciting for others, but it is surely not happy. Whether it's the prospect of a hasty job search or just the transition of moving on, we all feel a sense of loss and also of gain, as if we are all on the same bus, but headed to different places. Each mile past is a mile gone, a mile accomplished.
There are two sides to every coin.
It was the last day for Teresa and I to perform at the Taft Museum of Art. It was the first time for Robbie and Caitlin. We (Teresa and I) have met with Anne a total of five times now, performing each show twice, with the exception of Tom Sawyer.
They always serve us tea when we go there. It comes out on a wide, brown, oval-shaped tray, with an assortment of choices: Earl and Lady Grey, Plantation Mint, Lemon, etc. I think it might be the only venue we play that actually serves us a variety of tea.
The University of Miami-Middletown also serves us tea, now that I think about it.
In any case, we will miss the Taft's staff, Anne, the tea, the chill atmosphere mixed with the cozy luxury of a museum, and everything else--all of it.
--
That's not to say that it's all downhill from here. Far from it, actually. This week, we begin by heading back up to Springfield for the last show in association with the Springfield Arts Council. We have done every show for them, too.
It's always nice to go back to familiar schools, to meet with familiar faces. The perks are varied. Everything from knowing which driveway to enter and which door to find, to remembering where wall outlets are, to anticipating water bottles (or Styrofoam cups of tea), all combine to make our jobs a little easier.
It is nostalgia mixed with convenience, really: The past informs the present.
--
According to Caitlin, we have twenty-nine performances remaining. The countdown is surely sad for some of us, exciting for others, but it is surely not happy. Whether it's the prospect of a hasty job search or just the transition of moving on, we all feel a sense of loss and also of gain, as if we are all on the same bus, but headed to different places. Each mile past is a mile gone, a mile accomplished.
There are two sides to every coin.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Addendum: The Long and Winding Road
Tonight, we sleep in Mt. Orab. This is eighteen miles from Russellville, OH, where tomorrow morning we perform Tom Sawyer.
This is the same school from our earlier story, in which we failed to make it to the show on time because of traffic, misplaced paperwork, and a road which disappeared into bridge reconstruction. We are here tonight, and will be there tomorrow, to remedy the situation.
The whole purpose of ArtReach, after all, is to bring the show to the school, as opposed to many children's shows that only take place in a single location. Our mobility is our greatest strength, and our strongest selling point. This trip is all about working out that strength, stretching our abilities.
And, of course, about doing a good show. That is always our first goal.
--
It is rainy and gusty this evening at the Best Western. We met at 6:30 and made the trip in a little over an hour, despite heavy traffic near Cincinnati. After relaxing for a few minutes in the rooms, we have reached a decision:
Even though the wind is chilly and the rain comes and goes, we will brave the brewing storm for ice-cream at a local dessert shop.
--
In addition to the show at Russellville, we have two more shows in the afternoon. This makes for our first three-show day in a long time, maybe the first since Robbie and Caitlin joined the tour. The hardest part about those kinds of days is keeping up the energy, but as we are here with plenty of time the night before, we should get have more than enough rest to surge through it.
This weekend is the last one that we don't have off, too: From Monday on through the end of May, we have all Saturdays and Sundays free.
This is the same school from our earlier story, in which we failed to make it to the show on time because of traffic, misplaced paperwork, and a road which disappeared into bridge reconstruction. We are here tonight, and will be there tomorrow, to remedy the situation.
The whole purpose of ArtReach, after all, is to bring the show to the school, as opposed to many children's shows that only take place in a single location. Our mobility is our greatest strength, and our strongest selling point. This trip is all about working out that strength, stretching our abilities.
And, of course, about doing a good show. That is always our first goal.
--
It is rainy and gusty this evening at the Best Western. We met at 6:30 and made the trip in a little over an hour, despite heavy traffic near Cincinnati. After relaxing for a few minutes in the rooms, we have reached a decision:
Even though the wind is chilly and the rain comes and goes, we will brave the brewing storm for ice-cream at a local dessert shop.
--
In addition to the show at Russellville, we have two more shows in the afternoon. This makes for our first three-show day in a long time, maybe the first since Robbie and Caitlin joined the tour. The hardest part about those kinds of days is keeping up the energy, but as we are here with plenty of time the night before, we should get have more than enough rest to surge through it.
This weekend is the last one that we don't have off, too: From Monday on through the end of May, we have all Saturdays and Sundays free.
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Photos
The view of the back of the van, which is packed more safely and snugly than it probably looks
The set of Town Mouse, Country Mouse
Acting is hard, especially after a workout
The Tom Sawyer set on the stage of Cincinnati College Preparatory Academcy
One of our favorite venues, the Akron Civic Theatre
Robbie and Teresa enjoy a short off-the-road ice-cream snack
The van, outside Marie Roberts Elementary School, Lost Creek, KYThe Long and Winding Road
Friday, April 3
After performing at Marr-Cook Elementary in the morning, we saw that the next call sheet was for a show at another elementary school, forty-five minutes away. So we hit the road, pushing through our lunch break, until we got to the school. I hopped out of the van, entered the front office, greeted the secretary with a big smile and said what I always say: "Hi, my name is Chris, and I'm with ArtReach, the group that is doing the show later today."
The secretary smiled back, but seemed puzzled. "A show...today?"
"Yes," I said, "and we just need to know where to load in." It's not uncommon for administrators not to know we are coming; I assume it's rather easy to forget about an assembly when there are hundreds of children's needs to worry about. So I didn't think much of the secretary's hesitation until she said:
"I believe we canceled that show."
My blood ran cold. Didn't the call sheet direct us here? And weren't we twenty minutes early? And then I remembered that our touring coordinator had mentioned a cancellation on Friday, and I rejoiced a little. Yes! We didn't have an afternoon show after all! It was a pity we had driven almost an hour to get here, but no harm done; let's just head back home!
Still, it never hurts to check. "Could you please double-check that for me?" I asked. "I'll call the office and confirm." She left, and I whipped out my phone.
While leaving a voicemail at the office, I heard the secretary talking with someone in a back room. She returned with a sad smile and said, "I'm sorry you made the trip, but we definitely canceled the show about a month back."
I thanked her and walked back out to the van, eager to share the good news with the rest of the group. I hopped in and said, "No show this afternoon! We're done. Let's go home."
But they weren't convinced, so we double-checked the calendar and saw, to our horror, that there was a different school listed than was on the call sheet. We skimmed through the binder and found no such sheet for that school. So Robbie used the GPS on his phone to get directions to the school (another forty-five minutes away, we learned) while I used my phone to contact the office.
I spoke with Kelly, and explained the situation. She said she would call the school and let them know we were running late. She added, though, that the show would have to be shortened to accomodate the bus schedule. Town Mouse, Country Mouse normally runs about fifty minutes or more, and then we take questions, so starting a show at 1:30 when the students are supposed to be boarding buses at 2:15 was cutting it close. As a group, we started thinking of how to tighten up the show, which bits could be shortened, which lines could be cut. And during the next half hour, we figured out a way to make the show itself a half hour; after all, we'd get to the school with less time to set up, and assuming we weren't able to start right at 1:30...well, we thought, it was going to be an adventure.
Little did we know.
For you see, as we made our way toward Russellville, OH, the road took us across some wide, open spaces. And we were on this road for almost twenty miles when Robbie (who was driving) suddenly said, "I don't like those orange signs."
Sure enough, a quarter-mile ahead, was an orange diamond by the side of the road which warned, in big, black letters: ROAD ENDS IN 1000 FT. We came around the bend, and lo and behold, where once a bridge stood, there now was construction. Men in hard hats, bulldozers, and a series of dirt blockades stopped us literally at the end of the road. Robbie turned the van around, and as we headed away from the construction site, we saw detour signs. (The logic escapes me.) I called the school and informed them that the road we were on suddenly disappeared.
"Oh," said the principal, "you must be on 68-South."
"That's right," I said, "except that now we're on a detour road. 774-South."
"Oh," said the principal, very grave, "I don't think you're going to make it." She re-explained the bus situation, and said that the road we had taken would take us too far out of the way. In short, she wanted to cancel the show. I told her that it wasn't my call to make--I'm only the road manager, and cancellations and schedule adjustments are beyond my limited authority--and that I would relay the message. Which I did.
Kelly OK'd the cancellation, and since we were within ten minutes of the school and it was only 1:35, we were a bit disheartened. Not only is it always a joy to perform, but it turns out that the booking was made at the last minute, and the school was anxious to have us. I can't help but feel a little guilty for not paying closer attention to the discrepancy between the call sheets and the calendar, but in a situation like this, everyone and no one is really to blame. All you can do is to try to be more vigilant in the future.
We had been running out of gas the entire trip, and so we stopped at a gas station and UDF nearby. While the van filled up with gas, I bought a double-dip (twisted turtle and some sort of almond flavor). And as we traveled "the long and winding road" back to Cincinnati, we played the Wicked soundtrack, and sang songs to pass the time.
After performing at Marr-Cook Elementary in the morning, we saw that the next call sheet was for a show at another elementary school, forty-five minutes away. So we hit the road, pushing through our lunch break, until we got to the school. I hopped out of the van, entered the front office, greeted the secretary with a big smile and said what I always say: "Hi, my name is Chris, and I'm with ArtReach, the group that is doing the show later today."
The secretary smiled back, but seemed puzzled. "A show...today?"
"Yes," I said, "and we just need to know where to load in." It's not uncommon for administrators not to know we are coming; I assume it's rather easy to forget about an assembly when there are hundreds of children's needs to worry about. So I didn't think much of the secretary's hesitation until she said:
"I believe we canceled that show."
My blood ran cold. Didn't the call sheet direct us here? And weren't we twenty minutes early? And then I remembered that our touring coordinator had mentioned a cancellation on Friday, and I rejoiced a little. Yes! We didn't have an afternoon show after all! It was a pity we had driven almost an hour to get here, but no harm done; let's just head back home!
Still, it never hurts to check. "Could you please double-check that for me?" I asked. "I'll call the office and confirm." She left, and I whipped out my phone.
While leaving a voicemail at the office, I heard the secretary talking with someone in a back room. She returned with a sad smile and said, "I'm sorry you made the trip, but we definitely canceled the show about a month back."
I thanked her and walked back out to the van, eager to share the good news with the rest of the group. I hopped in and said, "No show this afternoon! We're done. Let's go home."
But they weren't convinced, so we double-checked the calendar and saw, to our horror, that there was a different school listed than was on the call sheet. We skimmed through the binder and found no such sheet for that school. So Robbie used the GPS on his phone to get directions to the school (another forty-five minutes away, we learned) while I used my phone to contact the office.
I spoke with Kelly, and explained the situation. She said she would call the school and let them know we were running late. She added, though, that the show would have to be shortened to accomodate the bus schedule. Town Mouse, Country Mouse normally runs about fifty minutes or more, and then we take questions, so starting a show at 1:30 when the students are supposed to be boarding buses at 2:15 was cutting it close. As a group, we started thinking of how to tighten up the show, which bits could be shortened, which lines could be cut. And during the next half hour, we figured out a way to make the show itself a half hour; after all, we'd get to the school with less time to set up, and assuming we weren't able to start right at 1:30...well, we thought, it was going to be an adventure.
Little did we know.
For you see, as we made our way toward Russellville, OH, the road took us across some wide, open spaces. And we were on this road for almost twenty miles when Robbie (who was driving) suddenly said, "I don't like those orange signs."
Sure enough, a quarter-mile ahead, was an orange diamond by the side of the road which warned, in big, black letters: ROAD ENDS IN 1000 FT. We came around the bend, and lo and behold, where once a bridge stood, there now was construction. Men in hard hats, bulldozers, and a series of dirt blockades stopped us literally at the end of the road. Robbie turned the van around, and as we headed away from the construction site, we saw detour signs. (The logic escapes me.) I called the school and informed them that the road we were on suddenly disappeared.
"Oh," said the principal, "you must be on 68-South."
"That's right," I said, "except that now we're on a detour road. 774-South."
"Oh," said the principal, very grave, "I don't think you're going to make it." She re-explained the bus situation, and said that the road we had taken would take us too far out of the way. In short, she wanted to cancel the show. I told her that it wasn't my call to make--I'm only the road manager, and cancellations and schedule adjustments are beyond my limited authority--and that I would relay the message. Which I did.
Kelly OK'd the cancellation, and since we were within ten minutes of the school and it was only 1:35, we were a bit disheartened. Not only is it always a joy to perform, but it turns out that the booking was made at the last minute, and the school was anxious to have us. I can't help but feel a little guilty for not paying closer attention to the discrepancy between the call sheets and the calendar, but in a situation like this, everyone and no one is really to blame. All you can do is to try to be more vigilant in the future.
We had been running out of gas the entire trip, and so we stopped at a gas station and UDF nearby. While the van filled up with gas, I bought a double-dip (twisted turtle and some sort of almond flavor). And as we traveled "the long and winding road" back to Cincinnati, we played the Wicked soundtrack, and sang songs to pass the time.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Photos and the Beginning
In the MU-Middletown elevator, with all the set and props!
The set of Tom Sawyer: An Original Musical. (Robbie to scale.)
About to raise the backdrop.
Assembling the backdrop.
Robbie and Caitlin, excited for their first day on tour with ArtReach!
Robbie, Caitlin, Teresa, Chris: Loading out at Miami University-Middletown--
We start the new tour--officially--tomorrow, with a performance in Blue Ash, OH. After yesterday's staff dress rehearsal of Town Mouse, Country Mouse, we continued to tweak and play through the afternoon today. Our artistic director and playwright, Kelly, encouraged us to play and explore as the tour progresses, discovering more moments and bits in the next two months. We can thank her and Roderick for the progress we've made with this new script, and we look forward to taking it on the road.
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